


The Wrong Sort of Magic

by WhoLockGal



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Captain Swan - Freeform, Christmas, Christmas Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5536454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoLockGal/pseuds/WhoLockGal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma was never one for holidays. And being back in Storybrooke after spending a year in a "land without magic" just makes her realize that certain types of magic are better (or worse) than others. (Set in 3B, pre-time portal)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wrong Sort of Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and Merry Christmas! Just a little angsty drabble that came to me this morning... Everyone always writes Christmas fluff, so I thought I'd try my hand at Christmas angst. Apologies in advance.

Christmas. The most wonderful time of the year. A day of smiles and family and presents. Laughter and hugs. A day for the best sort of magic, childhood beliefs.

Christmas should be all of those things, and probably was. For everyone else. 

“Bah humbug,” Emma whispered, taking another swig from the bottle of whiskey in her hand.

Once upon a time, she was - well... not exactly happy, but content. She knew who she was and made the most of it.

“ _ Once upon a time _ ,” she muttered darkly, thinking of Henry’s book. She shook her head as if to clear the thoughts from her mind and took another drink. 

It was hard to find a place in Storybrooke that she could hide-er-sit (and drink) in peace. It seemed as though every where she turned someone was wishing her a Merry Christmas, pulling her into a hug (so maybe that was primarily Mary Margaret, but  _ how was she everywhere? _ ), or asking about shopping and plans for Christmas dinner.

Finally she managed to give everyone the slip though. She snuck her way up to the clock tower figuring that no one would bother looking for her there - it was too obvious. None of them seemed to understand that holidays simply weren’t her thing. For as long as she could remember she had always been alone for them and that was fine. She had her own traditions, her own rituals to be carried out by herself. And today she was going back to her roots.

Being alone had never bothered Emma before, but then again that was before this town, before the last year, before Henry. That’s really when everything changed. And now she just needed some time to herself, to sift through her memories both real and planted. 

“Penny for them, love,” an unwelcome voice said.

_ That figures _ . If anyone was going to find her it  _ would  _ be him. Emma rolled her eyes, letting out an annoyed “Hey!” when the whiskey bottle she had been holding was snatched from her grasp. She turned to glare at the pirate who helped himself to a drink. 

“Cheers.”

“Please, help yourself,” she deadpanned in response. “What do you want, anyway?”

Killian quirked an eyebrow in response, causing Emma to bite back the smile that was threatening to appear. 

“Go away, Hook.”

“You wound me,” he replied, sitting beside her on the stairs before taking another drink. “It’s not rum, but that’ll do quite nicely.”

Once again, Emma rolled her eyes at her unwelcome pirate companion. 

Taking her silence as mild acquiescence, Killian continued speaking. “Did you know that there is an entire feast being prepared as we speak? Apparently there is a festival--”

“Christmas.”

“Yes, well, whatever it’s called. It’s happening down there and you’re up here,” he pointed out.

Emma nodded, taking the bottle back from him and drinking deeply. 

“‘Look out for yourself, and you’ll never get hurt.’ Is that it, Swan?”

“No,” she replied. “No, this is all  _ your _ fault.” Emma turned once again to the pirate, and poked him hard in the chest. “We were happy there, me and Henry. We had a life. We were our own family.  _ We were safe _ . And then you had to go and ruin it, dragging us both back--”

“Back where you belong,” Killian argued. “Swan…  _ Emma _ . Listen to me.” He paused here, waiting for her to meet his eyes. “That life wasn’t real, but this is. Your family… me. We are all real.”

Emma sighed. “It’s too much, all of this - all of them.”

Something in Killian felt lighter at her words, or the lack of them. She hadn’t included him in her statement, not directly anyway. And that was a start. So rather than push her to talk, he waited. And drank with her.

The pair sat in silence simply passing the bottle back and forth. It took a while, but as he expected, Emma finally broke the silence.

“This is supposed to be a ‘magical’ time of year, ya know? Not magic in the sense of…” She gestured blindly around them, continuing at his nod of understanding. “Christmas is all Santa Claus and presents, a magic of its own - a day when people see the good in each other, love one another, come together.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad, lass.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what it’s  _ supposed  _ to be. I never had that - not until this last year. Not until Henry and New York and--”

“Ah,” he interrupted. “And you want it back.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

The tone of despair in those two words nearly broke Killian’s heart. “Aye,” he whispered. “But perhaps there is some of that magic to be found here.”

Emma shook her head. “No, not like that. The magic here is dangerous, too dangerous.”

Killian started when Emma suddenly jumped to her feet. “I have to go,” she stated.

“Swan?”

“Back to New York,” she explained. “With Henry.”

“What? Now?”

“No,” she conceded, causing Killian to hope. “But soon. After Christmas.”

Killian sighed and frowned slightly. “Darling…”

Emma either didn’t hear the endearment or chose to ignore it. Instead, she squared her shoulders and raised her head as if preparing for battle. “First though, we make it through today. Henry deserves that.”

Refusing to admit defeat - for he had sworn to fight for her, and he meant to heed those words - Killian got up and followed her down the clock tower stairs. Unfortunately, he wasn’t paying very close attention and nearly knocked right into Emma on the last step.

“Swan?” he asked, when he saw that Emma was worrying her bottom lip.

“Don’t tell them, okay?” she muttered. “I just want… I’ll give them Christmas.”

“As you wish, love,” he replied, daring to cup her cheek in his hand. “But you deserve this as well.”

Once again Emma appeared to struggle with her reactions. Half of her wanted to smile-, to believe his words and relax into him- but the other half knew that nothing good could come from staying.

She shook her head slightly and stepped back from his touch to wake herself from her reverie. “Merry Christmas, Hook,” she said, turning and leaving him standing there, alone.

“Merry Christmas, my love.”


End file.
